


The Cracks In Our Foundations

by hinotoriii



Series: Oscar Trevelyan [19]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst, Family, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Trespasser DLC, Trespasser Spoilers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-19
Updated: 2017-04-27
Packaged: 2018-04-20 05:43:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 16,372
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4775804
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hinotoriii/pseuds/hinotoriii
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Even the greatest of heroes fall apart sometimes. </p><p>Oscar Trevelyan reaches the breaking point, and Dorian is there beside him. Nothing is easy, less so with the foggy and unclear future standing before them both, and it is during their moments alone together before and after their time at the Winter Palace that they truly understand how different everything will be now.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Discoveries

**Author's Note:**

> Heavy spoilers for the Trespasser DLC. And I mean _heavy_.
> 
> A collection of (mostly angsty?) one-shots surrounding the events of Trespasser, and the aftermath of what happens.

"You hid this from me."

 _"Dorian -"_  Oscar calls in a plea, trying to pull his marked hand away from Dorian's grasp. It only causes his hold on him to tighten, Dorian remaining ever careful to try and not cause any further pain to his beloved.  
  
"All this time ... and you hid this," Dorian says, beginning to sound pained.  
  
His eyes are drawn to the hand he holds, staring at how the green light of the anchor has grown. It's like a parasitic poison, spreading its way up the length of Oscar's arm as it glows ever brighter, going as far as to intertwine itself around some of his veins. Dorian has only ever seen a similar sight once: after Haven was destroyed. Even then the anchor had never managed to look so angry, so violent; and they had the right person amongst their numbers able to calm and stop its growth at that time too.

This, this is what he has always feared. Dorian has had nightmares of this, of the anchor consuming Oscar once and for all, snatching him away from existence completely. He never wanted nor expected these concerns to become a truth, however. Yet now it looked like it was. 

"How long ..." Dorian pauses, having to swallow down the emotion wishing to push itself to surface. "How long has this ... been this way?"  
  
Oscar doesn't try to hide or protect Dorian from the answer. Instead he looks down, a defeated expression crossing his face as he sighs.  
  
"Months," He eventually reveals, closing his eyes tightly. "It's been spreading before you even left for your Ambassadorship."  
  
Dorian's heart feels as if it freezes over at the confession. He knew the mark had been irritating Oscar more than it usually did before he left, but this? This extent of pain, and the rather rapid way it has spread? It's all news to him. Before Dorian had believed its ache to be alike that of an echo of an old injury -- much like those after Oscar's survival of Haven, which he says he still feels from time to time -- but this new knowledge? It leaves him feeling both frightened and lost.  
  
"You knew before I even left your side ..." Dorian repeats, looking up to Oscar's face, his own eyes unusually glossy with unshed tears. "Why didn't you say something? I could have --"  
  
"You could have what, Dorian?" Oscar asks, much too calmly for Dorian's liking. Dorian frowns, his response stern.  
  
"I don’t know,  _something._ "  
  
"Could you?" says Oscar. He manages to pull his hand away at last, cradling it close to his chest, the bright green illumination of its glow standing out ever so brightly now. "You know as well as I do the only person with any knowledge on the anchors true power is Solas, but he's no longer with the Inquisition. Rather than trapping you in what I knew would become an endless search for what's likely a lost answer, I decided to hide this from you. I didn't want you to worry -"  
  
"And what if I  _want_  to worry about you?" Dorian interrupts, his words sharp and full of frustration. "Is it so difficult to think that I might want to help you, to protect you from your own pain? Because damnit Oscar, I would search through  _every available book_  in the Imperium if I thought even one held an inkling of knowledge on how to stop this cursed mark from consuming you."

“And you think that’s something  _I_ want you to do? Do you truly think I’d want you to put your life on hold searching for something I know likely doesn’t exist, at least not in Tevinter of all places. We worked out the anchor is as elven as the orb it originally came from Dorian, and the last I knew, that kind of knowledge was destroyed a long time ago, by numerous people. Do you really think I’d want to watch as you grow more and more disheartened by each book that fails to help? I can barely think about what might happen myself, I didn’t want you to be plagued by those worries too.”

“I can assure you, being kept in the know about this condition of yours would have at least been preferable than being one of the last to find out!”

Oscar’s eyebrows raise at Dorian’s sternness. He turns away, shaking his head disbelievingly. After a moment Dorian watches as he rises to his feet, starting to move away from the stone bench they were both sitting on within the gardens.

“Then I guess we’ve both managed to disappoint one another lately. Usually, it’s considered best to tell the man you love  _first_  that you’re planning to stay in your homeland permanently; without him.”

The words are vicious and cold, so unlike the kind Dorian usually hears from Oscar. Yet they achieve their intention, wounding Dorian deeply with their meaning. They hurt, another reminder of how wrong he had been to hide behind his own fear about such a subject. But Dorian has accepted he handled the situation badly, he s _till_ accepts it. For Oscar to once again throw it back at him - and now, during this important revelation and discussion between them both - is low. The sort of frail defence a wounded animal would use whilst they grasp tightly onto the last remaining scraps of pride they have.

Before Dorian can truly retaliate he hears a familiar crackling sound, and his attention snaps to where Oscar has stopped dead in his tracks. The arm which is home to the anchor is held against him tightly, and as the energy within it glows brightly once more Oscar crouches, gritting his teeth as he tries not to let out the shout of pain that feels as if it is ripping him apart.

Dorian is alert instantly, rushing to Oscar’s side in a flash and kneeling beside him, wrapping an arm around his shoulders in an attempt to offer support. His heart beats rapidly within his chest as he holds Oscar close to him, reminding himself of the conversation he had shared with Leliana earlier as Oscar finally lets out a cry.

_“What do you mean, ‘there’s not much time left?’”_

_“The Inquisitor is losing his control over the mark. It is consuming him, more these past few days as he’s been using it again. It is killing him, Dorian.”_

_“No. No, I don’t believe that. It’s probably just … malfunctioning. Like it was before. You remember? It righted itself then, it’ll do it again.”_

_“Dorian… I’m so sorry.”_

_“No, I_ can’t _believe it. I won’t. You hear me, I won’t. If it was as bad as you say it is Leliana, then Oscar would have told me. He would have said something already.”_

_“Not if he didn’t want you to know. Not if he didn’t want anyone to know. We both know the kind of man that he is.”_

_“He’s a bloody idiot half the time, yes, but he’s not a fool. He wouldn’t hide such a thing … would he?”_

_“You should go to him. While you still can.”_

“This is what happened earlier, isn’t it?” Dorian asks once Oscar has quietened, worrying about how the man still shakes in his hold. “In the meeting you had? Before Cullen led you out here for some privacy?”

A long beat of silence, and then, a nod.

Dorian swallows his fear again, hesitating as he forces himself to continue. “And … the attacks. They’re getting more frequent. I’ve noticed how you flick your wrist out more everytime we pass through an eluvian, as if trying to throw off the pain. Does travelling through them make it worse too?”

Another nod. The answer is not what Dorian would have foolishly hoped for.

“They … the magic irritates the anchor. Each time I pass through them ... it feels like someone’s stabbing my hand.”

Travelling through eluvians was always met with discomfort, and Dorian knew all too well just how disorientating they felt. But they did not outrightly pain in the way Oscar describes. It isn’t a good sign, especially not with how often they’ve been travelling through them as of late. Dorian’s brow furrows deeply, the reality of the situation - and just how hopeless it appeared - falling over him.

“Dorian…” Oscar starts to say, carefully manoeuvring himself so he can turn to look at Dorian as he speaks. Sensing the mixture of fear and seriousness kept within Oscar’s tone Dorian forces himself to meet his gaze. Oscar searches for his hand, grasping it tightly in his own and squeezing.

“Whatever happens, I want you to know that I wouldn’t trade the years we’ve had together for anything. I carry no regrets in the time I’ve spent by your side. Not one. I love you, and I’ll continue to do so until the end.”

 _Maker, no._  Dorian thinks, tears beginning to fall from his eyes at what he’s hearing.  _No. Don’t speak as if your future’s already been decided. As if it’s already ending._

“You bloody bastard.”

Dorian pulls Oscar towards him, holding him close and in a tight embrace. He buries his face in his shoulder, for once not finding any shame for how he cries. How he mourns at how Oscar’s words already have his heart crumbling into little pieces.

“I always knew you’d end up breaking my heart,” Dorian says.

 _I just never thought it would be like this,_ he leaves unsaid.


	2. Loss

“No, no, no,  _no!_ "

“What Sparkler? What is it? What’s happened?!”

Dorian slams his hand hard against the eluvian standing before him, his reflection staring back at him from where a portal had once stood not a moment ago.

“This blasted things sealed itself! We can’t follow him!  _We can’t –_ ” Dorian lets out a growl, hitting the eluvian again before taking a single step back to glare at it vindictively. Cassandra and Varric stand close by his side, the both of them terrified at what the closed eluvian means.

“He was  _right there_  and now he’s not! I can’t  _not_  be there with him! Not now of all the bloody times!”

Dorian grows more frantic, his words more pained. He turns, searching around him as if the sign of a switch would have suddenly appeared out of nowhere, but all that he sees is the remainder of the destruction the last bout of energy from the anchor had caused.

Dorian lets out a cry, falling to his knees as his hands reach to grab tightly into his own hair. Never before has he felt so scared, so useless, and in his head beats a thunderous rhythmic drumming as the reality of the situation poisons him.

Oscar has gone Maker knows where, very closely on the verge of dying if he doesn’t find Solas in time, and Dorian is not there by his side. To make it worse he is trapped, alone by himself, and the mere thought alone is a painful torture to Dorian.

They weren’t meant to say goodbye, not yet. But Dorian would have taken the chance to do so above having it ripped right from him. Oscar already had been hiding the extent of his pain for too long, stealing opportunities which Dorian could have otherwise been using to find a way to save him, and now Dorian’s losing the chance to even be there for what could be his loves final moments.

He doesn’t even hear Varric and Cassandra as they continue to try and search for a way to get through the eluvian, lost in what he feels is the unmistakable sign of his heart shattering completely. Tears run down his face with little notice, playing back the last things Oscar had said in his mind over and over and over again.

Oscar had told him he loved him. That he treasured their years together, and would never trade them for anything. And all Dorian can think of is how he had been planning his inevitable leave for Tevinter. How it was he had struggled to even tell Oscar before anyone else, or the look of pain Oscar had worn upon his face once he had accidentally uncovered the truth for himself, discovering he had been the last to know. The past few days had been so tense and bittersweet afterwards, and Dorian is overcome with regret for what could have been. If only he had known time had been running out even then.

Time stretches on for what feels like an eternity, before suddenly he hears a sound. Dorian turns quickly towards the eluvian, seeing how it has suddenly become active once more, and before Varric or Cassandra could act he rises to his feet, automatically running through the portal, dismissing all the sensations and feelings of discomfort which usually pulls at him whenever travelling through the mirrors.

Once on the other side Dorian only stops for a beat of a second, long enough for his eyes to go wide at the numerous stone Qunari littering the area. Behind him Varric and Cassandra follow through the eluvian, and it is the sound of their footsteps that sends him rushing through the maze of statues in front of him.

“Oscar!” He shouts, his heart beating a rapid tattoo in his chest as he searches. “Oscar where are you?!  _Oscar!_ ”

His eyes scan around quickly as he travels, eventually coming across an empty expanse. His footsteps slow, spotting first a second eluvian on the other side, and then a figure sitting hunched upon the ground.

 _He’s alive,_  Dorian thinks, once again rushing forward. He all but collapses beside Oscar, his body shaking violently all over with a small relief.

_He’s alive, he’s alive. Maker he’s alive._

“Oscar,  _amatus,_ ” says Dorian, or more he breathes. The name is like the freshness of air to him, sweet and refreshing after having felt as if he were drowning at sea.

“I’m here,” Oscar answers. But it is not enough to calm Dorian’s nerves completely.

In all the years he has known him, Oscar has always turned to Dorian and smiled reassuringly whenever Dorian had worried over him or thought him to be in danger. He would make a joke – however feeble or poor it would be at the time – but it would always give Dorian a reason to laugh, as it was a sure sign that everything was going to be alright.

Oscar doesn’t do that this time.

He doesn’t even turn, instead remaining hunched with his pained arm held tightly towards his body out of view. Dorian wonders if maybe they had been wrong; and he’s suddenly frozen in fear at the thought of what would happen if even Solas couldn’t help to save him.

“Are you alright?”

The question comes from Cassandra, who stands a short way away with Varric by her side. They are keeping their distance for his benefit, Dorian knows, an act of them trying to give the two men space. If he weren’t so terrified, Dorian would have been thankful.

“Did you  _find him_  Inquisitor? Did you find Solas?”

Varric this time, and even his voice is anxious. It is only then Oscar lets out a pitiful laugh.

“Yeah. I found him.”

“ _And?_ ” Dorian asks, frantic. “Did you get to him in time? Did he help you? Are you  _safe?_ ”

Oscar doesn’t answer.

He remains still for the longest time, until eventually, his body begins to carefully shift. He moves away, turning to face the three of them slowly. His expression is exhausted, worn and tired and … betrayed? But Dorian doesn’t ask why as he moves his eyes to look down at the movement of Oscar’s arms.

They all hear how Cassandra gasps.

Oscar’s left arm ends at the elbow, a visible difference even beneath his clothes. The glove Oscar usually wears on his hand is held in his right, the dragonscale and rich leather material covered with dirt and blood, torn apart in places where the anchor’s energy had poured out uncontrollably. Dorian’s mouth falls open, his heat sinking into the pit of his stomach.

“There is much to explain,” Oscar says, sounding as monotone as a Tranquil. If it were not for the emotion telling so much within his eyes, Dorian would worry he were one. “He took it. The anchor. It’s gone.”

Oscar falls forward then, and Dorian quickly reaches for him, making sure he doesn’t hit the ground. There are cries of the Inquisitors name from them all, but still Oscar succumbs and gives in to the pull of his overwhelming shock and exhaustion.


	3. Grief

When Dorian wakes, he finds he is alone.  
  
It’s the middle of the night - or perhaps the early hours of the morning, either way the sky is still dark outside in a sign that he should be sleeping - yet the space in the bed beside him his empty, the sheet ruffled. As he presses his hand against the pillow it’s to find it cooler than he expects, indicating that his lover has been up for quite some time. If things were any different Dorian would sigh through his tiredness and flop his head back down onto his own pillow. Instead worry weighs heavily within his chest, knowing all too well that everything was far from what could be considered normal right now.  
  
He pushes himself up and out of the bed, letting the rest of the sheet drop before moving. Dorian walks to the small little sitting room in the adjoining room, stepping inside as he blinks his heavy, tired eyes. He looks around him, until eventually his gaze settles onto a silhouetted figure sitting upon a loveseat. The little light from the outside filters through the windows, hitting Oscar where he sits hunched over.  
  
Dorian feels as if his heart breaks at the sight, a feeling he’s become well acquainted with over the past few days. His expression turns sad as he watches Oscar return his attention to the bandaged stump of his arm, the arm which had once carried a hand home to the anchor. Oscar lifts his hand towards it, silently letting it hover near the bandage, unsure of if to touch or not.  
  
Ever since Oscar had returned through the eluvian things had been difficult. It had been enough of a shock to see his arm had gone, especially when Dorian, Varric and Cassandra had hoped Solas would have some knowledge to remove the mark from Oscar completely without removing his hand. It hadn’t helped that things had been a rush afterwards, giving Oscar no time to really wrap his mind around what had happened. It had been a blur of rushing back to the Winter Palace, bandaging what was remaining of his arm to aid in comforting Oscar somewhat, before helping him back into his blue formalwear again and pinning the left sleeve up. Then, Oscar had been left to the council, deciding the fate of the Inquisition after having just saved so many -- as well as his own life -- one last time.  
  
It had only been afterwards -- in the privacy of the rooms he had been given during his stay at the Winter Palace -- that Oscar had been allowed the time to truly come to terms with what he’d been through, and Dorian had been by his side since.  
  
But now it was the night before they were due to leave; the night before Oscar returns to a changed Inquisition -- one now acting as a peacekeeping organisation under Divine Victoria herself --and the night before Dorian returns to Tevinter. if he hadn’t had wanted to part with Oscar before, he certainly doesn’t want to now.  
  
“Is it hurting you again?”  
  
His voice is loud in the silence even to his own ears, and Dorian watches as Oscar turns to look at him.  
  
“It’s strange,” says Oscar. His voice sounds far away, as if he is focused more within his thoughts than he is on the reality before him. Dorian wonders how much of that is due to tiredness and how much is due to whatever it is Oscar could possibly be thinking and feeling.  
  
“It’s like it’s still there. It hurts, but not like before. I couldn’t sleep because of it.”  
  
Dorian thinks he sounds like Cole almost, and if it weren't for his growing worry he would have made a joke about it in hopes to see Oscar's smile. Instead he moves further into the room, making his way towards where Oscar is sitting.   
  
"I didn't mean to wake you, Dorian," Oscar continues with a heavy sigh. He raises his hand to rub against his furrowed brow. "You can go back to bed. I'll be there soon."  
  
"But you won't," Dorian replies quietly, sitting on the arm of the loveseat as he watches Oscar. "I know you well _amatus_ , enough that I know you'll likely be out here for hours if I leave you alone to your thoughts. The least I can do is to provide you with my company."  
  
Silence fills the air around them once again. Dorian looks towards Oscar, taking in the expression he wears up close. All his walls have crumbled, fallen to reveal the sight of the lost and bewildered man beneath them. So often Oscar tries to hide behind optimism and light heartedness, for his own benefit as well as those around him, that it is strange to see such raw sadness from him now.  
  
"The last time I saw you like this," Dorian says, attempting to push Oscar into some kind of discussion "was after we lost Haven."  
  
Even Haven wasn't this bad though. Dorian leaves that part unsaid.  
  
"I had two hands back in Haven. Not to mention an elven anchor in my hand and an ancient elven God on my side." Oscar pushes his hand into his hair, letting out a heavy breath. "Maker's breath, he was Fen'Harel all along. He had his own spies, planted secretly within the Inquisition. His _stupid_ orb caused the breach that started everything. And I spent _two fucking years_ of my life sending Leliana's agents out in search of any sign of him incase he was in some kind of danger. I never thought he'd _be_ the danger. Not Solas. Not my friend who loved to share fond tales of the fade with me, I thought. But I was wrong."  
  
Oscar laughs brokenly to himself, the sound something Dorian has never heard from him before; and would like very much to never hear again.  
  
"And what am I now? A liability. The Inquisition is changing, Solas is out there doing Maker knows what to try and open the veil, and I can barely do a thing for myself now. My days as a Knight Enchanter are over, I can't even use my own staff properly, and I'm just ... exactly what you see now. I feel as if I'm losing everything."  
  
 _You haven't lost me,_ Dorian thinks, but he doesn't say it. He doesn't say it because Oscar probably feels as if he _is_ losing him on top of everything else, what with how he has to go back to Tevinter. And he does have to. Hs father's seat won't stay empty forever, and Dorian _needs_ to change things in his homeland -- something Oscar has always supported him about one hundred percent no matter how painful it's been on him in the process.   
  
This man beside him -- this beautiful, wonderful, selfless man -- has literally put _everything_ before his own happiness. And as tears suddenly begin to fall down Oscar's face, Dorian finds he can't bear it any longer.  
  
"Come with me."  
  
Oscar turns his head towards Dorian sharply, his eyes wide at the words. His mouth drops open slightly, but before he can speak Dorian speaks first -- his own voice slightly broken from the tears he's fighting back. He will _not_ cry, not yet. Not when he needs to be Oscar's strength right now.  
  
"You're not a liability Oscar, you're the farthest thing from it infact. You just need time to adjust. To relearn what you already know, just differently. You need someone there to support you, to help you, and Maker be damned if I'm going to leave you when you most need me. I very nearly lost you for good _amatus_. Going through something like that puts things into perspective, and for me that perspective is that I won't leave you when you're like this. I can't. So come to Tevinter with me."  
  
"I can't," Oscar replies after a pause, pained. He's shaking his head, expression more painful than it had been before. "I want to, more than anything else in this world, but I can't Dorian. Not right now. I need to return to Skyhold, sort things out there. Then I need to figure out my role in this new Inquisition -- if I still have one that is. Not to mention there's Mae now --"  
  
He cuts himself off then, letting out a groan as he pushes his hand through his hair again.  
  
"Mae doesn't even know I've lost my hand. I told Cullen to take her with him when he left for Skyhold after the council -- she might not even _want me_ to be her parent anymore --"  
  
"Of course she will," Dorian interrupts, insistent. "Mae _adores_ you. You can't think that she wouldn't want you after this, not truly. She's our _daughter_ \-- she more or less chose that herself with how she instantly attached herself to your side -- her love for you won't change now. You're just scared _amatus_ , that's all. Scared because things are so unclear right now. Which is why if you can't come with me, I'll stay with you instead."  
  
"What?! _No, Dorian,_ " Oscar shakes his head, sitting up on the loveseat and sitting away slightly so he can face Dorian better. "You _have_ to go. I will _not_ hold back your dreams, not even temporarily, and you need to be in Tevinter. You said as much yourself before; Maevaris is there waiting to work alongside you, your seat in the magisterium is there --"  
  
"Then what are we to do?" Asks Dorian, interrupting Oscar's words again. "I don't want to leave you, not now. Not when you're feeling like this. But if you can't come with me, and I can't stay, where's our middle ground? When do you get a chance to learn and rediscover yourself?"  
  
Oscar looks away, staring hard at the floor below them. Dorian lets out a sigh, feeling as bewildered and lost in their difficult situation as Oscar must with everything in general. They remain quiet again for a few moments, and Dorian tries to think of any possibility that could be of some help.  
  
"I'll go to Kirkwall."  
  
It is Dorians turn to look surprised as Oscar continues, having not expected him to offer such a thought.  
  
"Not right away. I _will_ go back to Skyhold first to sort out the Inquisition, but then once I know more of what will happen ... I'll take Mae with me. Varric gave me a house there, an actual house of my own for once. I'll take some time away to fix it up with both his help and with Mae's, and hopefully by then you'll be settled in Tevinter. Then Mae and I can visit you, for a short while at least."  
  
"Kirkwall? That place is a shithole Oscar. Not to mention that with Varric as Viscount now I imagine he has more than enough work lined up for him."  
  
"It might be a shithole," says Oscar. "But it's close enough to Ostwick. I can ask Johanna to stay with me for a while as I figure things out, she's always complaining that she doesn't see me enough. And when things are clearer for me, I'll be closer to Tevinter so I can see you. Not to mention we both have these."  
  
Oscar reaches for the crystal that hangs around his neck. He clasps it in his hand, holding it towards himself tightly. Dorian gives a sad smile at the sight, remembering just how difficult it had been to get a hold of the gift he had given his love. It seems all the more worth it now, given the circumstances.  
  
He still doesn't like the thought of being apart from Oscar, especially with the stress and emotion that he is under. Yet if he's with his sister, someone Dorian knows loves Oscar as much as he does himself, then maybe that makes things a little bit more bearable. Still, he is stubborn, and as a thought dawns in the back of his mind, Dorian offers one last alternative to their soon to be parting.  
  
"Kirkwall it is. As long as your sister is there with you." He reaches forehead, wrapping his hand around where Oscar clasps the crystal still. "But I'm returning to Skyhold with you first. I wish to aid you in forming a letter to your sister before we go our different ways, not to mention that I would very much like to see Mae again before I leave. After that is done, I will travel with you across the sea, and we shall part at the docks in the Free Marches. Does that sound alright?"  
  
It will mean quite a detour. Dorian would be travelling through the lands rather than simply by sea, but he doesn't mind. He has never liked travelling by sea anyway, and if he thinks about it optimistically he can look at it as if he is taking the more scenic route. He can write a letter to Maevaris whilst at Skyhold, informing her of his slight rescheduling, but Dorian knows she'll hardly mind. She’s always been understanding that way.  
  
It at least will make him feel better. He can talk to their daughter before he leaves, perhaps learn more about the Inquisitions future standing for himself too, not to mention the most important factor of them all: he can make sure Oscar is doing as best as he can. For a time, at least.

“Alright,” Oscar replies quietly, albeit hesitantly. He is still wary, unsure of himself even, but at least there is a thought for what happens next. One that will hopefully become clearer once Oscar knows what the Inquisition has in store for him.

Letting go of the crystal Dorian breathes out a sigh, moving from the arm of the loveseat to sit down in the small space now near to Oscar. Dorian keeps his attention on him, offering a small and saddened smile as he carefully reaches for him.

“Come here,” Dorian says, pulling Oscar towards himself in an embrace. Oscar moves into it easily, curling himself against Dorian’s chest and wrapping his arm around him, gripping for support. Dorian’s hold is strong around him in return, keeping Oscar close as he buries his face into the mess of his hair, pressing a kiss there before resting his chin upon it.

“Whatever you think of yourself now, know that it’s likely not true,” says Dorian, knowing all too well that Oscar is likely questioning much that does not need questioning. His arms wrap around him a little tighter, relishing in the feeling of having Oscar in his arms -- something he thought he would lose forever not only a few days ago. “You’re still you, regardless. And you’re still the man that I love more than anyone or anything in this world. Never doubt that for a second, _amatus_. I will always be there for you, in the flesh or through our crystals, no matter what else happens.”

Oscar makes a small sound akin to that of a whine, pressing himself closer to Dorian. Dorian feels the wetness of tears again, understanding how Oscar had likely needed to hear those words.

Things aren’t alright. Dorian doesn’t know how long it’ll be until they return to any sense of normalcy, if they ever do. But he vows then he will do what he can to make things better for Oscar. Make them easier somehow. He doesn’t know how right now, and the future is still so unclear for them both, but he’ll work it out.

Because for once in his life Oscar should be a priority. He’s given enough of himself for the world -- literally so -- it’s about time those around him started to give back.

“Let’s go back to bed, shall we?” Dorian asks, mumbling the words softly into Oscar’s hair. “Sleep for the next few hours until dawn. I’ll hold you, even if you can’t get to sleep. It’ll certainly be a better alternative that sitting out here by yourself.”

Silently Oscar nods, and after a long moment they begin to pull away. Dorian guides him back to the next room, his hold warm and secure in Oscar’s hand. Once they’re in bed he brings Oscar close to him, holding him as he promised, running a hand along his back to try and soothe him.

He doesn’t sleep until long after Oscar finally gives in to the pull of slumber himself, and even when he does it is to thoughts and ideas of ways to aid the man held securely in his arms.


	4. Goodbye

It rains the day they’re to part ways at the docks.

Dorian finds it fitting; gloomy weather to match their equally gloomy hearts. But he doesn’t say so. He dare not to, not when it was already rare enough to see Oscar smile these days.

Oscar, who stands beside their daughter and his own sister, face partly covered by the long hood of the dark cloak he wears, masking him in shadow.  He looks so much smaller than Dorian has known and ever seen him to be, so much less confident than when he embodies the title of _Inquisitor_. It’s heart-wrenching to see such difference, and not for the first time in the weeks which have passed Dorian wonders if leaving him for Tevinter is really worth it.

Their daughter, Mae, has already said her goodbyes to him. Johanna speaks to her quietly for a moment before Dorian sees the young girl nod, and Johanna turns to both her brother and Dorian with a familiar warm and comforting smile.

“I’m going to show Mae one of the boats she noticed when we arrived. We shan’t be long.”

Privacy. A moment to speak to one another alone. Dorian recognises that is what she is truly granting Oscar and himself. He offers her a nod – one which could be read as a mere acknowledgement by any unknown stranger watching, but which those all involved truly understand as a sign of his own gratitude. As Johanna walks away with Mae Dorian returns his focus towards Oscar, whose head shifts so as to look at him better from beneath his hood in return.

The sound of boots squelching in the wet, mud covered path can be heard as Oscar takes a few steps towards him yet Dorian pays little attention, rather moving forwards as well so as to meet Oscar halfway. He sees how Oscar tries his best to smile at him, failing however due to how heavy and broken his expression truly is in comparison. Dorian wishes Oscar would let his need to please and reassure others before his own self go, at least this one time.

“This is it, then,” Oscar begins to say, and even his voice is quieter. He sounds like a man who is slowly giving up. The thought unsettles Dorian greatly.

“The next time we meet, you’ll truly be a Magister. Whenever that shall be.”

“Sooner than you think, _amatus_. Before you know it, we’ll see each other again.”

Dorian swallows around a thick lump forming in his throat, unsure who it is he’s trying to convince more out of the both of them. Oscar’s forced smile vanishes completely, suddenly appearing so many years older than he truly is.

"Whatever happens Dorian, know that I have faith in you. You’re going to do great things for your country's well being, I know it. Never doubt for a second the belief I have in what I am certain you can accomplish. If there’s one thing Tevinter doesn’t know it needs, then it’s Magisters like you. The ones who truly love the land, and want to see it at it’s absolute best.”

He has to close his eyes briefly to hold back the wave of emotion which hits him. Even when he opens them again Dorian knows they’re glossy with held back tears. He knew he’d hate this moment, the time where he would have to leave Oscar’s side. He just hadn’t prepared himself for how hard it would be.

Oh but Maker, he wants to _stay_. No one had believed in him as much as Oscar does, no one. Oscar, who has been to hell and back in the past month or so alone, who has every reason to be angry at Dorian for choosing Tevinter over him at the end of it all. And yet he isn’t. Despite how lost and unsure he is about his own future, Oscar still manages to support Dorian’s dreams enough to _let him go_.

If Oscar asked him to stay, now, Dorian thinks he would. If he said he needed him, Dorian would drop everything to remain by his side. Yet the fact that isn’t even a fathomable option to Oscar what with knowing what this means to Dorian in the long run … it is an act of love so strong Dorian’s own heart aches from the weight of it.

“Know I am always here for you should you need me,” Dorian settles on saying in answer. “I want to hear _everything_. As soon as you reach Kirkwall, how your day has been, if things have gotten … easier, somehow. And the fact you can’t write letters just yet isn’t acceptable. Use the crystal.”

“My days will be so very dull compared to yours, I’m sure.”

"It doesn't matter to me if they are or if they aren't. Just promise me you'll talk to me."

_Let me know about the good times and the bad. Of the successes you make yourself or of the harsher struggles you may face. Just please don't shut me out, nor feel as if you can never speak or ask for help from me should you ever need it. For whatever the reason, or however small and silly it may seem to you at the time, I am here for you. I always will be._

From beneath the shadow of his hood Oscar breathes out a heavy and exhausted sigh, although Dorian picks up on how he once again forces a tight smile which still doesn't quite manage to reach his eyes.

"Only if you promise the same. The crystals work two ways as I understand after all, correct?"

Dorian doesn't respond with words right away. Instead he steps forward, carefully reaching for Oscar so he can pull him towards himself before wrapping his arms around him. Oscar falls into the embrace easily, his own single arm wrapping just as firmly around Dorian in return, gripping tightly with his hand into the back of his clothing. Dorian can't help but to breath in the familiar scent which clings to Oscar - honeycomb, from the scented soaps Oscar always uses - and Dorian acts as if attempting to file the memory of it's smell away for later, when he would no longer be able to just reach out for the man whenever he needed his comfort or reassurance. His eyes clench tightly with emotion at the reminder of how soon that'll be, wanting to draw this final moment between them both out for as long as he possibly could.

"I promise, _amatus_ ," Dorian eventually says in reply, pressing his face into the crook of Oscar's neck. His own hands clasp tightly into the fabric of Oscar's cloak, creasing it under the pressure of his hold. "Every day. Without fail." 

"That's reassuring, not to mention flattering to hear. But don't go putting more important things on hold just for me now. Speak only when you can."

Dorian pulls away, just enough to stare at Oscar intently. One of his hands move to cup Oscar's cheek, his thumb rubbing soothingly against the skin there.

" _Nothing_ is or truly will be any more important than you. At least not to me." 

Before Oscar can argue Dorian presses his lips against his, kissing him with intensity. He's careful not to knock Oscar's hood away, knowing how it wouldn't be ideal for the Inquisitor to be found outside of Skyhold's walls, especially whilst the rest of the world continues to speculate on what it was that had truly happened during the Council held at the Winter Palace. He does hold on to the thought of how this could be one of the last kisses they share for quite some time however, and so tries his best in attempting to translate everything he hopes and feels for both Oscar and their joint future together. Dorian doesn't want to leave with Oscar doubting the love he carries for him, nor with any looming fears that this is where the two of them - along with so many other things in Oscar's life as of late - end. Dorian can't bare the mere idea of Oscar feeling abandoned by him, even if in his own heart Dorian carries a heavy weighted guilt from how he fears that could very well appear to be what he is doing.

"You'll miss your boat," Oscar breathes in between kisses, but Dorian doesn't care. He knows there is still time left for the two of them, and he intends to cherish every second of it whilst he can.

"Don't do anything stupidly heroic," He replies, pressing his forehead against Oscar's. "Heal. Recover. Then once you have, you can visit me. But not a moment before." _It's not safe otherwise_. Dorian thinks _. I can't leave you in that kind of danger, not after what happened to my father. I need to know you're able to defend yourself first, just to be on the safe side._

"Are you making me promise that too?"

"Hardly. I am, however, giving you an incentive to _keep pushing forward,_ " Dorian says. "Call it a goal, or something to aim towards if you prefer. It will always be there, and neither the offer nor myself will disappear."

"I'll be counting on that." Oscar breathes out a sigh, and from where their foreheads join Dorian can feel the way Oscar's begins to crease as he frowns. "Do be careful out there Dorian. I know how dangerous and vicious Tevinter can be, and I don't know what I'd do if anything were to happen to you. Be safe."

"I'm turning you soft," Dorian replies with a sad smile. He pulls their foreheads away, watching as Oscar looks back at him with the same lost and exhausted expression as before. 

"No softer than you. But truly; be careful. Be well."

Somewhere in the distance behind them Dorian hears the final calls searching for those boarding the same boat as he. Knowing there's only moments left he pushes forward again, meeting Oscar halfway to share in a last, final kiss.

"I love you, Oscar," He says after, beginning to slowly step away. His hand holds tightly onto Oscar's, grasping for as long as he possibly can. "Remember that."

Their hands pull apart, and as they do Dorian watches Oscar's face begin to crumple as he holds back his tears. Dorian can feel his own threatening to fall at the loss of the familiar warmth of the hand he had just been holding, and as he spots Oscar's sister and Mae move to stand beside him once more, he finally turns away and focuses upon walking forward.

His gut still stirs with discomfort, questioning his decisions in leaving Oscar's side not for the first time. But he's made his choice, one which he knew was what the both of them had agreed was best given the circumstances, and Dorian tries his best to push down his anxieties and worries as he begins his journey back to the place which he had once called home.

* * *

Oscar finds it difficult watching Dorian leave. He doesn't react when his sister and daughter finally join in standing by his side, preoccupied with the sudden sensation of emptiness he feels growing deep within himself. For the first time he feels truly alone in the wide and expansive world around him, left to drown in his strengthening depression at all he feels he is loosing.

He knew letting Dorian go to achieve his own dreams and goals would be the hardest decision to carry out, but he didn't expect it to feel like this. Oscar had expected to feel as if a part of him was ripped away from him, yet instead he's left with an odd sensation of hollowness. It is as if he were now left in the dark, all those which had stood with or near him snuffing out the lights as they finally walked away, Dorian being the last to do so and eventually engulfing Oscar fully in his own suffocating despair.

"Brother ..."

His sister Johanna moves closer to him, watching Oscar as his eyes shine with unshed tears threatening to fall stream down his face. Her voice is calm, soothing almost; or it would be if Oscar felt he were in any state to be calmed.

"You'll see each other again. I promise you."

She says, and out of the corner of his eye Oscar notices how Johanna hold onto his own daughters hand. He can barely reassure Mae that all will work out, not when he doesn't honestly see how it can happen himself.

 _What if we don't?_  He wants to ask, yet doesn't. As much as he may be sinking deeper and deeper into the unknown, Oscar can't drag his daughter into that same dark path of thoughts. He won't. Out of them all, Mae deserves to keep her own sense of hope to hold on to. Oscar refuses to take that away from her.

"The Maker guides his children, and Andraste loves them deeply. The fact you are still here shows they both still have plans for you. Neither would be so cruel as to separate you and Dorian for long. Your story together doesn't end here, it simply cannot."

Her words aim to soothe, and usually, they would. That is, if Oscar carried any belief in the Maker or Andraste right now. But after Corypheus, after Solas and the reveal of his plans in the current worlds demise ... Oscar is all too confused to understand what it is he believes and doesn't believe in anymore.

"I don't think even the Maker or Andraste are weaving this tale for anyone, Johanna," He murmurs, just loud enough to hear. "I don't think fate is playing any parts here right now."


	5. Seperation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The story Oscar and his daughter reads is _Andraste and the Wyvern_ , which can be found in _The World of Thedas: Volume 2_.
> 
>  _Pater_ is Latin for 'father'. I have adapted it to mean the same in Tevene for this story, seeing as how the language takes much from Latin anyway. This is something Dorian has taught Mae to call him by, so that neither her, nor he or Oscar ever got confused when she asked for her father. That, and I reckon Dorian would love to teach his child parts of his homeland and language.
> 
> I apologise for the long wait, and if this chapter isn't as clear as I hope for it to be.

“But why would anyone want to hurt a wyvern? Andraste told him that it wasn’t scary.”  
  
A small smile plays on Oscar’s lips, listening to the questioning of his ever curious daughter. He rests the book they’re reading from down on his lap, shuffling slightly as he makes himself more comfortable from within his bed, Mae snuggling herself closer to his side. His arm remains wrapped around her small body, holding her close.  
  
“Well … Maferath was probably still scared. People do stupid things when they’re frightened.”  
  
“But the wyvern didn’t _do_ anything. It’s not like it attacked first.”  
  
“That’s true. But sometimes when people see big creatures, they stop thinking and just act.”  
  
_“You_ don’t,” Mae says, reaching for the arm Oscar has wrapped around her and pressing her cheek against it. “My father’s the bravest, bestest hero. You’re nice even to animals! And you’re never so scared that you attack when you don’t need to.”  
  
Oscar huffs out a laugh, fighting the urge to give a fond roll of his eyes. If there’s one thing he’s learnt since taking Mae in it’s that there’s no reason to be modest to her compliments. Despite how he feels about the good things she says about him, Mae’s opinions are solid and determined. To argue against them would only prompt her to become much more adamant in making him believe them. He’d much rather she just believe that he accepts them, especially on a day like today.  
  
It hasn’t been an easy one for Oscar. In actual fact, it’s been a very difficult and frustrating one. Arguing somewhat with his sister earlier hadn’t made things any easier on him either. He knew her worry and concern came from a place of caring -- especially what with how he’s still struggling to adjust to all the new difficulties that are now in his life -- but Oscar had really just wanted to wallow in his own self pity alone for a moment or two. He didn’t want to talk to anyone, nor did he desire to open up at all about how he was feeling and dealing with things. However, it appeared that Johanna wasn’t going to settle for anything else at the time, and it only proved to irritate him all the more.  
  
Of course, Oscar now regrets taking his own bad mood out on her, and when he thinks back on it he feels a rush of shame sweep over him for his rude behaviour. It probably didn’t help either that he’s been feeling the phantom of an ache deep within his lost arm all day now, echoing that of when the anchor had first begun spreading itself further beneath his skin. It’s irritating, knowing that the memory of his pain will continue to plague him from time to time, and that there truly is very little he can do to make it go away. On days such as this when the pain is worse Oscar understands just how lost he feels without his limb, and it always manages to create a slow burning anger which flares deep within him, as well as an odd sense of mourning.  
  
His daughter is about the only bright thing he feels he can take any comfort in. She is like a ray of light to him, her optimism and young, innocent view of the world precious and warming. She is the calm to his storm, and Oscar finds himself relaxing for the first time that day as he reads her favourite stories along with her. Mae’s smile is akin to that of sunshine, and whenever he looks at it Oscar desires to respond in kind, even if his own smile is somewhat weaker and more tired than he’d like it to be.  
  
“When _I_ grow up,” Mae continues, pulling Oscar out of his thoughts and causing him to turn and face her with interest. “I want to go on adventures just like you and _Pater_ do.”  
  
“Oh really?” Oscar asks, raising an eyebrow as Mae nods. “And I take it your adventures are going to guide you towards a whole family of wyverns, yes?”  
  
“And griffons,” She says. Oscar does huff out a small little laugh at that, redirecting his gaze to the book sitting in his lap.  
  
“I thought we’d been over that one, Mae? No one’s seen any griffons for a great many years.”  
  
“I’ll find one,” Mae answers, voice strong with determination. She sits a little straighter, staring at her father as Oscar turns his head back up to look at her. “Just wait father! I’ll find a griffon, and after I do I’ll tell you and _Pater_ all about it! And Aunt Johanna and Uncle Stephan!”  
  
“If you do,” Oscar begins around a chuckle “then I’m sure Varric will write a story all about it. About the brave and beautiful young adventurer who was the first to fly upon a griffon in an age. Even Cassandra will be jealous of such a feat.”  
  
“Just as long as you and _Pater_ liked my tale, that’s all I’d care about.” Suddenly, Mae’s expression grows somewhat sad, and Oscar’s face falls at the sight of it. “I miss _Pater,_ father.”  
  
The change in subject causes Oscar's heart to tighten uncomfortably. For he knows how his daughter feels all too well. Oscar aches with how much he misses having Dorian around, the pain so much worse than when Dorian had visited Tevinter before. Those days always carried certainty with them, a timeframe which Oscar knew Dorian would return to him in. Now however he has no ideas as to when he'll next get to see his love, and although the sending crystal Dorian had given him was good for bridging communication between them, each time he heard Dorian's voice Oscar grew saddened at the reality that he had no solid form of Dorian of which to admire or hold on to.  
  
Despite his conflicting emotions regarding how quickly his entire life has changed Oscar has tried incredibly hard to keep Mae's life as calm and stress free as possible. But each time he catches her in a moment where he knows she's missing her other father too he can't help but feel as if he's failed her. Oscar wishes he could take Mae's sadness away, wishes even more that Dorian and himself could both be there for her together without their other commitments getting in the way, but it's just not realistic. If he sends her to Tevinter Dorian would only worry profusely for her safety, not to mention Mae would then end up missing him instead. There was so little Oscar could think of on how to fix and make things better for his daughter, and instead feels even more useless at being unable to do what he knows is the impossible.  
  
So instead, he does all that he can. He sympathies, and tries to offer what little comfort he's able to gather.  
  
"I miss him too," _incredibly so,_ he thinks. "And I know for a fact he misses you a great deal too."  
  
Mae's expression doesn't improve. She curls herself back into Oscar's side and Oscar wraps his arm around her again, letting his fingers thread soothingly through the strands of her chestnut brown hair.  
  
"I really wish he didn't have to be so busy all the time. He always says his work bores him, so why does he keep working on it?"  
  
"Because it's important to him, Mae," Oscar says. He holds in a sigh, closing his eyes for a long moment as he continues. "Sometimes, the really important work has to be boring. If it weren't so, then anyone would do it. Your _Pater_ is very determined. He knows how hard things are, and he knows how boring they can be, but he really wants his work to be a success. Because when they do become one, it means he'd have made a great difference for a lot of people. And that ... that isn't something we can keep him from. He loves you very much, more than the moon and the stars combined. If this work wasn't as important as it is he'd be here right now, with us. Of that I know for sure."  
  
" _Pater_ always says your work is important too. Do you ever get bored with it?"  
  
Oscar lets out a breathy chuckle.  
  
"Yes. Quite a lot too. But if I didn't do those boring things, then no one would. And it would make a lot of very important people very unhappy."  
  
_Not that much makes Ferelden's and Orlesian's happy anymore, even with the Inquisition standing only for peace and the Divine's will now_.  
  
Oscar tries to let the thought leave his mind as quickly as it had entered, glancing down to look at Mae once more. She's turned quiet, lost in her own emotions. It's never a good thing to let her mind work too long when it comes to important matters such as how much she misses her second father, so Oscar offers the only current alternative he knows is likely to cheer her up.  
  
"What about if you speak to your _Pater_ , hmm? Over the sending crystal? How does that sound?"  
  
His fingers slowly stop threading through her hair, allowing Mae the opportunity to turn her head and stare at him with growing excitement.  
  
"Could I father? Oh, please!"  
  
And how is Oscar ever to deny her, even if he wanted to try? He forces a smile, offering her a small nod, before turning his attention to where Johanna had left the sending crystal on the little table beside the bed earlier whilst she had been cleaning.  
  
For a second he hesitates, thinking back to everything that has transpired throughout the day. His argument with his sister, his feelings of uselessness and worthlessness. Even the three times Oscar has ignored any attempts at Dorian contacting him via the device. Thinking of how Dorian likely feels about that has Oscar's stomach churning with guilt, yet he has a growing suspicion that his sister has already spoken to Dorian about the incredibly bad phase he is struggling through. After all it isn't unlike her, and given her refusal other times of not fulfilling Dorian's request of filling him in on how Oscar is handling things, it would not come as much of a surprise.  
  
Still, Oscar worries for the reaction from Dorian. He imagines him hurt at the avoidance, or tired of how once again Oscar remains a handful to deal with. What if he were generally upset, so much so he gives Oscar a piece of his mind on how he hated to be ignored, especially from the man he loved and was trying to support?  
  
Once again, Oscar feels like a disappointment due to his actions. He wouldn't be at all shocked if Dorian finally saw him as one too.

Despite how he feels, Oscar sits up and begins to reach over to his right for the sending crystal. It’s been quiet since both he and Mae had begun reading together, and as he turns to hand the small item to his daughter Oscar tries to ignore the way the voice in the back of his mind tells him silence is not always a good thing.

“Do you remember what I told you about how it works?”

Mae nods as Oscar he drops the little object into her cupped hands, watching her as she holds it protectively. She rubs it lightly with her hand, causing the crystal to start emitting a light yellow grow, becoming brighter as it starts to activate. Oscar leans back in the bed again, trying his best to open and flick through the book of stories which still sits on his lap. He hears his daughter call for her _Pater_ , yet it is after the brief pause following her words that Oscar feels his heart lurch, recognising the voice that responds oh so very well. 

_“Mae? Well, it’s certainly a delightfully lovely surprise hearing you. And how are you my dear?”_

From out of the corner of his eye Oscar glances to Mae beside him, watching how her smile suddenly grows at the sound of Dorian’s voice. Oscar’s glad, and continues to read as she and Dorian speak with one another. Or at least he attempts to. He finds it difficult to concentrate hearing Dorian speak as if he were in the room, especially when Mae laughs at something funny he’s told her. It’s not until he hears himself mentioned in their conversation that Oscar actually thinks to look towards his daughter once more.

_“Have you been looking after your father while I’ve been away, by any chance?”_

“Of course I have _Pater,”_ Mae answers. She misses the very soft sound of Dorian letting out a relieved breath from over the crystals, yet Oscar picks up on it.

_“Good. After all, what was it I told you before I had to leave?”_

“That the love from someone close who means a lot to you is the best kind of comfort anyone could ask for,” Mae repeats, and Oscar’s attention grows sharper. He doesn’t remember hearing about this conversation. “You also told me that hugs are an even better sort of comfort, and that father deserves all the hugs I could give him.”

 _“I did say that, didn’t I?”_ Oscar hears Dorian let out a small chuckle to himself, before continuing. _“Knowing that you remember must mean that you’ve been keeping those promises we talked about. I’m sure the hugging and having you by his side are helping him greatly, so you should be proud of yourself. I know I’m certainly proud of you. Your father is too.”_

“You’re making it sound like hugs are work, _Pater,_ ” Mae says whilst giggling. “Father loves my hugs anyway, like you do. He’s actually sitting next to me now! We were reading a story about Andraste’s wyvern, have you read it?”

 _“Oh, once or twice. I’m sure someone snuck it into one of the library’s here before it was later discovered. Tevinter isn't too fond on Southern stories, sadly. But let me ask you something for a moment. Did you say your father was sitting with you?”_

“I did! He is!” Mae nods, turning her attention towards Oscar. There had been hope in Dorian’s voice with the question, and after having just heard of the private discussion Dorian had apparently had with their daughter, Oscar felt the desire to speak with him. He hadn’t known that Dorian had gone as far as to speak and make promises with Mae which he had hoped would help whenever Oscar felt lonely or defeated. Now that he thinks about it however, Oscar could see how Dorian would go about doing such a thing. 

“Can I speak with _Pater,_ Mae?” Oscar asks, holding out his hand in question.

Mae gives another nod, and once she finishes speaking with Dorian a little bit more she hands the crystal back over to Oscar. His fingers trace over it for a moment while he stares into the bright yellow of its light, waiting. He lets himself take in a breath, before letting a small, tired smile stretch over his lips as he speaks.

“Hello, Dorian.”

And from the other side, voice sounding soft and affectionate even hundreds of miles away, Dorian doesn’t hesitate in his reply.

 _“Good evening,_ Amatus. _”_  

The sound of the familiar nickname leaving Dorian's lips calms the anxiety built up within Oscar and, with his daughter beside him whilst he spoke to the man he loved, Oscar felt as if he could forget all his frustrations. If only for a brief moment of time.


	6. Distance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologise profusely to my readers of this story for the very long delay in posting. I had never intended for the next chapter to take as long as it has, or for there to be a wait of so many months between this and the last one. 
> 
> I ran into a lot of trouble with this chapter, and ended up going through quite a number of changes whilst writing it. I'm not entirely certain how I feel about the final product I deliver to you now, but I know that it's the happiest I've been with it out of all the drafts I had along the way. If anything feels a little off or odd however, then it's simply because I've had so much trouble with it!

Waking from its slumber the sun had started to rise slowly above the cityscape, its dusty golden rays casting shadows upon the silhouetted architecture of high grand buildings. It is a sight that Dorian had paid little attention to during his youth, yet one which he had oddly found himself missing in his time away from home. It is only due to his restlessness that he thinks on the beauty of the early hour upon his city now, whilst he walks through the unusually silent streets.  
  
The night had gifted him with very little rest. Instead his thoughts had worked like clockwork, going over the same tune of concerns which have been eating away at him for some time. The reality of his newly appointed title of Magister currently the most present, the most fresh confliction of emotion obvious to him lately; as well as the constant wonderings about what he's had to leave behind to get to such a point. Or more, whom he left behind.  
  
The thoughts had wound him up so much they led him to where he finds himself now, standing before the tall doors which lead into a cathedral of sorts. Dorian doesn't wonder why or how he ended up here, rather something within him pulls at him to enter while the day is still young and new. He relents, letting himself in and marvelling at the sight he then meets.  
  
Most of Tevinter's highly esteemed cities and buildings prided themselves on height and open space to illustrate their place as worthy of the higher classes approval, and the cathedral is no different. Statues stand proud around the room, images of those Dorian remembers from the books he read growing up, of the stories Tevinter tell and hand down about their version of the past. Below some of the more favoured heroes of religious legend are candles waiting to be lit; obviously for those to leave their prayers and respects to throughout the day.  
  
Dorian spots who he's looking for across the distance of the room, and wastes little time in heading towards them.  
  
Another statue, this one of the Maker himself.

As he approaches the figure a memory comes to the forefront of his thoughts. He recalls a rare afternoon years ago spent in his own quarters at Skyhold, lazing in bed with an arm wrapped around Oscar beside him. Their relationship had still been somewhat fresh and new, the both of them still yearning and hungry to learn more about each other, and Dorian faintly recalls their conversation turning towards religion. Most of what was said back then is a blur to him now, but there is one thing Dorian remembers. One thing that still reigns true even now.

_‘I’ll say this: I may not believe in the Chantry, but I do believe in you, amatus’._

Ah, of course. Now Dorian understands why he seems to have ended up here.

Not a day has passed in which Dorian has not thought of the small family of his he left back in the South. He misses Oscar and Mae something terrible, and is more often than not wondering how his love has been fairing within his long recovery. There still remains that sensation of guilt weighing his stomach down like lead at not being by Oscar’s side, and his fear of having chosen the wrong option for what had been the right thing to do has only stretched further within the depths of his mind since officially being sworn in as a Magister a few days ago.

Magister. If that wasn't a title that carried a weight along with it aswell. Dorian suspects he’ll never truly get used to being referred to as Magister Pavus now. It had been a title which his mind registered only accompanied his father. But now he was gone …

A sigh leaves Dorian's lips, his eyes staring up again at the statue. He didn't often visit these sorts of places -- Cathedrals or Churches, that is -- and often felt they were more for show than for the sentimentalities of what religion truly encompassed for many, but at this moment it is the only place he thinks to be.

And so, he lowers himself to a kneel.

It feels absurdly strange to Dorian, bowing before an inanimate object, and he feels a little foolish as he slowly clasps his hands together. He wonders how people do this every day, if any of the prayers they send ever receive a response. Even if they don't, he considers the idea of a prayer. Wishful thinking that their words had been heard by some greater being, much wiser than all.

Dorian bows his head and gently closes his eyes, and after a long beat of silence, prays.

He prays for himself; and the days ahead which he faces. Of the hope to live long enough to do some good for his homeland, no matter how slight or small. Of reassurance in that all he has chosen up till this point has indeed, been the best in the long run.

He prays for his country. For the faint possibility it will rid itself of the toxic disease which spreads it, that it will eventually become as grand and prestigious as it tries to fool itself into being.

And he prays for the lover he left behind. Of his dearest Oscar, to one day find a level of himself which he is comfortable with. Of healing from all his wounds, including the ones that run deep deep deep within his own soul. But most of all he prays for his safety in the darkness ahead. Prays that a guiding light will watch over him as he eventually and inevitably tries to shake and save the world once more, this time from someone who had once been as dear as any other of his inner circle of comrades.

His hands tighten with the final prayers, and in the silent cathedral, the murmured words which leave his lips resonate loudly in Dorian's ears.

“...For if he truly is your brides’ chosen, then do not abandon him now. He has given too much of himself already to this world and your cause. Protect and guide him. Show him compassion, I plead, for he has currently lost his way. This, is all I ask of you. Look after him while I cannot be by his side.”

* * *

It's late afternoon when Dorian finally manages to find time to himself once again in between all his new duties. He spends it sitting in the tall velvet chair in his library, the sunlight filtering through the window falling onto his profile as his fingertips dance around the sending crystal he so treasures. It is perhaps his most prized possession; at least out of all he has with him in his homeland.  
  
Very lightly he brushes his hands over where the crystal sits within its small locket-shaped encasing, causing it to glow a shade of amber. Dorian waits, before finally hearing the sound of his beloved's voice speak from the other side.  
  
"Dorian?" He hears Oscar ask, words tinged with the edge of a recently woken slumber. Dorian can easily sketch out in his mind how Oscar likely looks in that instance, with slightly ruffled hair and heavy sleep filled eyes. It's a thought which causes his heart to ache slightly at imagining.  
  
"Did I disturb you? We can speak another time if you'd rather sleep."  
  
"'Wasn't sleeping," replies Oscar, and yet his voice betrays him. "Merely dozing. My sister thought it would be nice to drag me out earlier in an attempt to find some artwork to display in the sitting room. Only I think she forgot that we're not exactly staying in Orlais."  
  
"Was the search successful in the least? I hear that sometimes odd treasures turn up in places like Kirkwall."  
  
"Says the man who calls Kirkwall a shithole most of the time," Oscar says. Dorian can't help but to smile. "Actually, we did find something which was rather nice. I think Johanna's quest to decorate my place is by no means complete, but she was at least content with the piece I'd found. Not entirely sure you'd like it much though, what with it being a farm."  
  
"As long as it doesn't include a field filled with nuggalopes, I would probably be content with it by now," Dorian teases, causing Oscar to chuckle lightly.  
  
It's still not quite the laugh Dorian is used to hearing -- not the one which had always caused Oscar's face to stretch into a wide smile in the past -- but it's better than the hollow sound he had been hearing before. A work in progress some may say, yet all Dorian cares about is that the slow return of happiness means Oscar is keeping his promise. That he hasn't given into the darkness which had clouded over him before, and that he continues to pull through each day as best as he can.  
  
"I'm guessing you’ve had quite the eventful morning then, by the sounds of things."  
  
"Try an eventful few days," Oscar says. "I met with Varric yesterday evening for a drink -- can you believe that the Tavern's name was _The Hanged Man?_ After _Herald's Rest_ , that name quite astounded me."  
  
"Oh, you won't believe some of the Tavern names we have here then if that surprises you. I'm quite certain some were even intended to translate in a peculiar fashion so that they sounded much less pleasing to Southern ears."  
  
"Maybe one day they'll be one called _The 'Armless Herald_ . It honestly wouldn't surprise me at the very least."  
  
"Are we at the stage of making puns now?" Asks Dorian, attempting to hide his sudden surprise. It's the first time he's ever heard Oscar even attempt to make light about the loss of his arm. Usually, Oscar would try his hardest to ignore the topic entirely unless it was brought up within conversation directly.  
  
"Only when the occasion calls for it. Anyway -" Oscar continues, returning to the topic and brushing away Dorian's brief astonishment. "Apparently, meeting with Varric for drinks became more of an excuse for to Varric introduce two of his friends to me instead. Rather unexpected at the time, but not terribly unenjoyable. Do you remember hearing of Fenris and Merrill?"  
  
Of course Dorian remembers the names. He'd read the _Tales of the Champion_ with great interest long ago, and had often questioned Varric on parts of it to know if they were real or fabricated by an author's unique flair. Why, he can recall when he first met Scarlet Hawke, Varric having contacted her to try and see if there was anything she could do in order to aid the Inquisition with the mysteries surrounding Corypheus or the missing Grey Wardens. There had been a few evenings on their travels through Crestwood where Scarlet would share tales of the two elves; how she had taken to trying to aid Fenris by teaching him how to read properly, or how Merrill remained in her home at Kirkwall despite the heat of the war found at every turn. From what he’s heard Dorian only carries positive opinions about them both, and as he continues to listen he is glad to hear that Oscar has begun connecting with others outside his comfort zone at last.  
  
Dorian's stomach tightens uncomfortably when he hears about Oscar’s plans to relearn his control over his magical ability however. As far as he recalls Fenris is not completely accepting of the use of magic in his presence, and as for Merrill; well. Dorian hardly likes being in the presence of blood magic himself, the very thought of someone he loves being so close to it and him not being there to do anything should the worst happen...  
  
"Don't worry," reassures Oscar, and Dorian knows better than to assume he hasn't sensed the concern building within him. "The only one using magic for the majority of the time will be me. Fenris will be there to make sure nothing explodes unexpectedly, and Merrill's already promised not to use her blood magic. I think she's aware of it causing discomfort around quite a few people."  
  
_Or Varric had forewarned her of how certain members of the Inquisition feel regarding it_ Dorian thinks, breathing out a small sigh as he pushes the thought to one side. "I agree wholeheartedly that it’s important for you to discover your balance with your magic again. I just ... can't help but to wish that I was there to help you myself in some way."  
  
_"Dorian,"_ Oscar says, and if Dorian isn't damned by how his voice manages to soften in the way it always does whenever Oscar is touched by something he's said or done.  
  
"Don't misunderstand, you already know that I have complete faith in both you and the decisions you make -- well, _most_ of them at the very least. It’s more a concern born from us being so far apart than anything else."  
  
And oh, it is. Dorian would worry about Oscar plenty when they were together; it was hard not to when the man he so adores happened to also be the last remaining hope of the world in which they live in. But now that he doesn't see Oscar half as much as he would like Dorian worries almost endlessly. He's hardly sure it's healthy, and knows in his heart that the addition of more stress will likely age him greatly, but it's the price he pays for loving someone as fiercely as he does. And after everything they've been through in the past, Dorian feels as if he's entitled to feel the way he does.  
  
"I understand," Oscar replies. Of course he does, he always has. "I worry about you too after all. With every meeting you attend, every event you have to be present for. If I'm being completely truthfully though ... as much as I may wish we were together again, I’m not sure I’d be comfortable with you here while I'm focusing on my magic once more. Not right now anyway."  
  
The words both surprise and bewilder Dorian, his forehead creasing into a frown as his fingers grip a little tighter around the case of the sending crystal. His heart aches with an all too familiar pang of hurt, one which Dorian tries promptly to ignore.  
  
"Why ever not?" He hears himself ask, fighting the rush of thoughts which build up as to what Oscar’s response could be.  
  
"You really don't know?" Oscar asks back, his words soft and filled somewhat with a melancholic sadness. "Dorian, when we first met one another I'd already spent years knowing and understanding how to channel my magic. How I could control it properly and feel the way it flowed when I needed to use it, as well as how it worked. It was as natural a thing as breathing to me. But now ..."  
  
There's a pause, and Dorian thinks he hears Oscar take in a sharp breath before pushing himself to continue.  
  
"I didn’t just lose my arm that day. The anchor affected me more than that, on some deeper level which I’m still trying to understand fully. I don't know how long it's going to take for me to relearn some things, or if using magic will ever feel as natural to me again as it once used to. I don't even know what to expect from its strength once I begin; weather it's weaker or stronger now after all that’s happened. With so much uncertainty … it's not exactly a side of myself I want people who knew the me from before to see."  
  
Realisation dawns on Dorian then, rendering him momentarily speechless. Oscar speaks of things akin to shame and pride, and so desperately does he not want those he cares for to think of him as any less, to see him as any weaker than he once was or to be disappointed in all he struggles to do.  
  
_"Amatus,"_ Dorian begins gently, carefully. He wishes Oscar could see what he does whenever he so much as thinks of him, that as far as he's concerned he is in no way less of the person he's always known him to be. But simply from his own experiences Dorian knows painfully just how difficult it can be to believe another person’s words, even if that person cares about you unconditionally. It's not something one can just stop thinking or feeling over night. The worrying concern acts almost as if it were some form of leech, clinging and ever present, and the only way to make it go away is to respond with regular compassion.  
  
"All anyone can ever expect from you is what you’re able to offer. You must know by now I would not wish more of you than that. I will not lie, there may be difficulties to face, and you may not have quite the same grip on your magic as you once had, but I know with complete certainty that you'll find a way to adapt and find a new comfort with it again eventually. I can't think of anyone who's faced so many obstacles and come out as tough on the other side of it all as you have. This? It's just another way for you to realise for yourself how truly resilient and amazing you are as a person."

“I know, I know,” Says Oscar, breathing out a heavy sigh once more. “You’re right. It’s just … not that easy to imagine. It would be nice if one day I’m able to surprise you with what progress I make with my efforts, rather than putting you on the front lines of my frustration whilst I work through it all again.”

“You seem to forget how I’ve been on the front lines of your frustration for years now,” Dorian teases, trying to steer the conversation back towards some form of lightness. If there's anything he's learnt, it's that focusing too much and for too long on the negative sides of what Oscar has been through often lead into Oscar’s mood falling into dark despair. So instead, the side of Dorian’s lip quirks into a small echo of a smile. “I’m rather used to it by now.”

“I’ve honestly not been _that_ bad in the past, have I?”

“Never,” Dorian replies. “You’ve always had good reason for expressing your irritations and frustrations, and that hasn’t changed now. I know I say it often, but simply remember that I am always here for you, on the difficult days and the easier ones.”

“Unless you’re busy with all those new duties of yours that is. Don't forget how I told you not to prioritise my personal complaining over my rather shitty situation whilst you're attempting to change your homeland. That's certainly more important to focus your energy on,” Oscar says. “Which actually reminds me, didn’t you mention that you were attending a soirée this evening?”

“Ah yes. You would bring that up, wouldn't you? It’s hardly something I’m looking forward to.”

The soirée is the first of its kind that Dorian is to attend since being sworn into his new role. A private event which is to be held at one of the other Magister’s estates, an event which is positively guaranteed to be overly excessive in every possible way. After all, money speaks and travels a long way within Tevinter, and those with more to show for it were often in the regards of those carrying more power where it counted the most.

If there’s anything for Dorian himself to gain from attending the soirée it’s gossip; the whispered words about various happenings within the Magisterium, all of which are either mixtures of false rumours or truths hidden in plain sight. It is important he attend not only to keep up appearances but also not to fall as weak, fresh prey within the dragons den. After all he still counts as ‘fresh blood’ in this new game he has begun playing along to, and many were still wary of what his moves within their world would involve. His reputation proceeds him, and Dorian wishes to at least be seen as the man he now is rather than the young son of the once powerful flame that had been Halward Pavus.

“You’ll be sure to share anything particularly scandalous with me when we next speak, won’t you?” Oscar asks, shaking Dorian out of his thoughts and causing him to laugh.

“Oh, I do love how you ask,” He replies, shaking his head as he smiles. “Have I ever failed you on that front before?”

“You've never failed me. On any front or in any way at all,” Oscar answers, the words falling from his lips so effortlessly and easily. “Chances are that whatever stories you share with me will be the entertainment highlight of my day, so do make sure that you overhear something incredibly shocking. You've always played it up that Tevinter’s gossip is by far better than that which lingers around Orlais.”

“Played it up! My dear man just you wait, I’ll have an absolutely riveting story of scandal ready and waiting to share for you when we speak again.”

“I’ll be waiting for it. Truly though, do at least _try_ to enjoy yourself.”

“I’ll do my absolute best,” Dorian says, placing his free hand on his heart in a silent vow. “It would be much more entertaining if you were there with me, but I’m sure Maevaris will provide excellent company all the same. Failing that, there's always the wine if the evening proves to be absolutely abysmal.”

“Makers breath, you’re terrible,” Oscar expresses with a sigh, although there's a humour laced into his which causes Dorian to smile fondly at hearing.

They speak for a little while longer, catching up on what's happened in one another's lives over the past few days. It isn't long however until Oscar starts showing signs of his growing tiredness once more, and eventually Dorian thinks it would be best to let him return to his earlier rest. With some reluctance they bid their goodnights, Oscar again telling Dorian to enjoy the evening ahead of him, whilst Dorian promises to contact the following day to share anything exciting with him. As the light from the crystal held within his palm begins to dim Dorian can easily picture Oscar falling face first back into his pillow, knowing from all the times he'd slept beside him that it would not take long at all for sleep to pull and embrace him beneath her comforting spell.

After staring at the dullness of the locket for a little while longer Dorian finally lets his fingers move away from it, instead letting it fall against his chest from the chain it sits upon around his neck. Rarely does he ever remove the crystal from his person, instead treating it as if it were a constant presence; a way to keep a part of Oscar close to his heart always. He leans his head back in his chair for a brief moment, working to remove the ache which has pulled at his neck from being on his feet for most of the day. Soon he turns to look to his side, attention drawn towards the small table covered in various books and pieces of parchment.  
  
He focuses on the top most parchment, the most recent of his works. And there, staring back at him, sits the very brief outlines of the prosthetic he's begun gathering ideas for. With any luck, he’ll eventually have something to surprise Oscar with one day in the far future.


	7. Forgiveness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A chapter which has literally been in progress for about a year now. Once again, I apologise for the lateness. I did originally intend this chapter to be much longer, but given the struggles I have been having with the second part of it and how important this main scene is, I have decided to go ahead and upload what I have. 
> 
> As a side note I am aware that it is the Amell's that are canonically related to the Hawke family. However, in regards to this little universe the Cousland's are related to them instead - simply because I have always had the headcanon that my Warden and Hawke are distantly related.

Oscar should have expected this conversation to happen eventually.

Well, he somewhat has. It's been a distant thought sleeping dormant in the back of his mind for weeks now. The guilt which weighs heavily upon him has lingered for far longer, finding a home within him for years. Its long, sharp claws have dug deep into his very soul, clinging; a burden he's never truly been able to lift. Despite words to the contrary Oscar has always believed he's deserved its company.

It is what he has carried with him ever since that day at Adamant.

And now, years later, the day he has always dreaded has arrived. The day where Fenris sits across the small wooden table from him, arms crossed over his chest and bottle of wine left untouched upon the table. Despite the loudness of the tavern Oscar has heard his words loud and clear, his stomach tying itself into knots as soon as they had been spoken.

_"We should talk. About what we both know neither of us wants to talk about."_

Oscar breathes a single, long breath through his nose, letting his own hand drop from where it had been grasped tightly around his own tankard. He sits back in his chair as he watches Fenris. Fenris who hasn't moved, whose expression Oscar can't truly read. But he thinks he can sense a deep rooted dislike radiating off him.

"I had wondered when we would have this conversation," says Oscar. He sounds calmer than he feels, anxiety bubbling ferociously in his belly. "It never seemed appropriate to bring up before. Not with the others around."

"Would there have ever been an appropriate time?" Fenris asks.

Oscar cannot find an answer to that, at least one that's not an excuse. And if anyone deserves the truth, it's Fenris. Especially after all this time. He's not sure how much Varric has shared or how much he kept secret - either for Fenris's own good or in an effort to protect the Inquisition's plans and findings from getting into the wrong hands by some ill fate at the time - but Oscar has always known that when this conversation eventually happened, he would tell Fenris everything.

"Stop looking so terrified. I don't hate or blame you for what happened."

Oscar's eyes grow wide. His mouth drops open, disbelief numbing every sensation that had previously been rushing throughout his body. He stares at Fenris, whose rolling his eyes as if he had just spoken the most obvious fact shared between them.

"You ... don't?"

"Oh, believe me. It wasn't without effort in trying." Fenris sits forward, the wooden surface of the table letting out a brief creaking sound under the weight of him leaning his arms upon it, letting a deep sigh pass from his lips as his chin falls to rest upon his hands. He watches Oscar, as if  assessing him. "But I know what Scarlet was like. Knew what she was like back then especially, perhaps more so than anyone else did."

"I tried," Oscar says, the words tumbling from his lips. A confession he'd been keeping buried deep, deep down for so long - too long, perhaps. "I honestly tried. To save her, to save Alistair. I told them both to go through the rift first, that I'd take care of the nightmare demon and follow after -"

"And Scarlet was so stubborn she wouldn't let you. Because she knew you wouldn't make it out on the other side no matter if you promised to or not, that someone would remain left behind. Trapped."

Fenris made a sound close to a snort, turning his gaze away from Oscar to instead glare sharply to one side. He frowns, causing deep lines to crease his brow. In that moment, with the image he paints sitting across from him, Oscar can't help but to think Fenris looks as old as he himself feels.

He thinks he hears Fenris grumble something under his breath - it _sounded_ like he'd said _selfless bitch_ , but maybe he's wrong - before the elf continues to speak.

"Scarlet had her own of looking at things. The way she would read difficult situations changed after all she went through in Kirkwall," Fenris pauses, the lines upon his brow deepening further. "We were working with Alistair a while before Varric contacted her about Corypheus's involvement with the breach. Scarlet had grown increasingly worried about what the Wardens were going through with the signs of the Calling, thinking it might end up affecting her brother. A part of me knew even then that if she left to aid the Inquisition she likely wouldn't return. What happened while you were all at Adamant ... only managed to bring that fear to life."

"Why?" Asks Oscar. A simple word, but with many important questions attached to it, branching out in all directions like an old, large tree. The biggest question is the most obvious to them both; why did Fenris already suspect Scarlet would die if she were to offer to help?

"The answer is quite simple, really," Fenris replies. He finally looks across the table once more, sadness flickering in his eyes for a brief second before it's hidden once more. "Scarlet was two things; a hero, and someone who cared too much about everything. When those two traits mix in a person they can be known to act selflessly, wanting the best for everyone around them at the expense of themselves. She was never going to let anything happen to Alistair. It was why she was working so hard with him in the first place, not only to save her brother but to also save him. And _you_ , Herald, were the most important person in the world at the time. Our one and only holy saviour."

Grimacing, Fenris finally reaches for his wine bottle, taking a long drink from it. Oscar watches in silence, his own brow furrowed slightly as he thinks upon what he's just heard. There had been an edge of bitterness when Fenris had mentioned him, and Oscar wonders if even with the elf declaring he neither hates nor blames him for what happened all those years ago, Fenris can't help but to be remain somewhat pissed off by it all.

"Why Alistair? I know they were good friends but ... what made Hawke want to protect him so strongly?"

Fenris sets the bottle back down but doesn't remove his hand from around its neck. He focuses his attention towards the wooden table for a long moment, appearing to contemplate something before looking towards Oscar again.

"Because Alistair is her cousin's husband."

Oscar suddenly stills, surprise flooding its way throughout his entire body. He stares across at Fenris, mouth slightly agape, his thoughts spinning wildly like cogs in a machine.

He hadn't known.

At the time, Oscar only knew that Alistair's wife was Lizbeth Cousland, the Hero of Ferleden herself. Back then he had assumed that the close friendship Scarlet and Alistair shared had been born out of years of knowing one another, of working together, of both wearing heavy titles which the world had forcefully thrust upon them. He had never even thought to consider that the closeness was because they were _family_.

"Scarlet's cousin is one of the last survivors of her family along with her brother, Fergus. Scarlet herself lost everyone but Carver. After Anders, Scarlet became even more fearful of loosing those who had become important to her. When it came to Alistair, she wanted to look out for his safety and well being so her cousin would never have to know the pain of loosing him too."

"A pain which Scarlet was already familiar with," Oscar answers, understanding dawning on him as he recalled the ending to the book Varric had written about her. Fenris nods, sadness spreading across his expression once more.

"Exactly. And now you understand why I knew she'd put herself in danger if it meant saving both you, and him." Fenris takes another drink, scrunching his nose up with a look of distaste. "I tried to make her see her own worth many times, but Scarlet could easily become the most stubborn woman I knew when she wanted to be. I'm sure you came to discover that side of her yourself."

Oscar knew all too well, but it isn't what he thinks about. Instead he's imagining the disagreements Fenris and Scarlet likely had, especially after what had befallen the conclave. The thoughts cause him to recall similar arguments he's had regarding what others name as his own stubborn and selfless nature - the most common occurrences involving Dorian.

There has only ever been two times in their relationship in which Dorian has been furious with Oscar; the kind of fury which begins life as an uncomfortably tense silence whilst waiting for the inevitable explosion. Both moments had been born from his own worry and fear, the first after their return from Adamant Fortress, after Dorian learnt that Oscar had intended to stay behind in Scarlet's place. The second ...

... the second time had been the morning Dorian found out the anchor was killing him.

As he briefly thinks back on both moments, Oscar can't help but to wonder if one of the curses of being known as a hero to others is the weight of grief and guilt that person carries upon themselves. Both Varric and Fenris have told him how Scarlet carried its heavy presence with her wherever she went, and Oscar himself often feels drained by his many regrets and the knowledge of how his actions very often hurt the people he loves the most. He expects it is also something both Alistair and his wife carry with them too.

"I can't continue to blame you for being placed in the middle of a shitty situation with a woman who wanted so badly to make up for the sins she felt she still owed. When I first received Varric's letter I _did_ hate you, and Alistair too. I hated it all. But it was Scarlet who had once told me that hate wasn't something to live by. I've hated and found revenge before, and it only left me feeling empty afterwards. Once I'd had enough time to grieve, I began to understand that she was only doing what she thought was required of her. I disagree with what her decision drove her to ... but I have learnt to at best respect her sacrifice."

Fenris's words leave Oscar feeling speechless. He can only imagine how difficult it must have been for him to reach such a piece of acceptance, although he expects Scarlet is never far from his thoughts. She had obviously been of great importance to him, and from what he's heard and what Oscar remembers of the brief time he knew her he is once again reminded of how much of an incredible person she had been.

"If it means anything, she thought of you," Oscar says with a softness. His eyes remain fixed on Fenris, whose own widen slightly at the words. Oscar's hand reaches to hold tightly around his tankard again, more for a feeling of support than anything else.

"After she made her decision, Scarlet pushed me towards the way out, Alistair having jumped through before me. I turned around to tell her to come with me, but before I could speak she looked at me. She seemed so determined, so ready for what lay ahead. But for a second she hesitated. She wanted me to tell you something, but never finished to tell me what it was. Instead she looked away from me and smiled to herself, and I heard her say _'no. He already knows.'_ "

A quiet moment passes. Oscar swears he hears Fenris suck in a breathe, thinks he notices his face pinch as he fought against whatever pain the words suddenly brought him.  
  
"If she meant what I think she did, then I've known for a long while."


End file.
